221B
by GotDance45
Summary: A series of short stories. Some will be fem!Johnlock, some will be crossovers. Chapter 1: Jon has always wondered if it's possible to die from a broken heart. Chapter 2: All thoughts other than Sherlock leave her. Chapter 3: You really didn't know? Chapter 4: A visit to the therapist.
1. Chapter 1

Hello!

Sorry it's been so long, it's been crazy busy! Here's a short one-shot featuring gender swapped versions of John Watson and Sherlock Holmes. Enjoy!

-C

* * *

Jon has always wondered if it is possible to die of a broken heart. As she watches Sherlock crash to the ground, felled by a single bullet to the head, she can't imagine it any other way. She falters as she steps toward Sherlock, because in that moment, nothing feels real. Jon barely registers falling to the ground, towards Sherlock's shaking, outstretched hand, grabbing it and clutching it to her face. "Oh, Sherlock."

Time freezes. Jon has never been able to stand someone in pain, especially her loved ones. Instead of making her inferior, that quality has made her an incredible doctor. She has always refused to sit and watch her patients wither, no, she has fought every moment and every breath to fix them beyond all possibility. And it registers as an outright failure that Jon must watch Sherlock, her soulmate, lay in a puddle of her own blood, clearly agonized. Jon can feel her pain, tenfold. What Sherlock feels, Jon feels and that is what makes them exceptional. That is what makes them SherlockandJohn, not just Sherlock and John. Her eyes meet Sherlock's, and they are reflections of the pain she feels. "Sherlock..."  
"Jon, I, I want you to know that I love you. And that has never been something I doubted, or had to deduce."  
Tears blur her vision. She has never questioned Sherlock, and it is an incredible moment to hear her profess her unconditional love, no matter how many times she's said it. But time is fleeting, and it stops for no man. Sherlock, well-versed in ways of dying, feels it too. Jon gently brushes Sherlock's face, and kisses her forehead. A single tear rolls down Sherlock's face, and she takes a deep breath. "Goodbye, Jon."  
Jon has heard these words before. She watched Sherlock fall before, too. She's never been happier than when Sherlock reappeared in her life, but she knows there's no fairy tale ending to this. She physically feels Sherlock's soul leave her body, and the beautiful face, the delicate hands hold no more value, for it was never about her physical features, however impressive. Jon fell in love with her soul. Then, she smiles softly. Sherlock has rubbed off on her. She's rather well-versed in the ways of dying as well.

* * *

Sally Donovan is shaken to her core. She truly believed that Sherlock was somehow invincible, yet here her corpse lays, cradled gently in the arms of Jon Watson. And it strikes a startling comparison to the tragic tale of Romeo and Juliet, because, without any clear wounds, Jon lies lifeless as well. She composes herself carefully and turns back to Anderson, who seems equally as shocked. "What happened?" Anderson whispers.  
Sally sighs. " I think it's rather clear that Sherlock was shot."  
"And Jon?"  
Sally meets his eyes as she brushes past him towards the door. "Died of a broken heart."


	2. Chapter 2

Sometimes Jon wonders what life would be like without Sherlock. She knows it would be boring. But in the end, it's really hard to imagine. She has become half of herself and half of Sherlock, and she doesn't know where the halves end. She is Sherlock's and Sherlock is hers, and to be honest she can't define their relationship. There aren't any proper words or terms. These are the thoughts that go through her head as she races back to St. Barts. That is before Sherlock rings her and tells her to look at the roof. All thoughts other than Sherlock leave her. When you truly see someone you love, it's like the lights turn on and you can see everything and nothing but them at the same time. But when they're in danger, your heart stops, you fist your hands and you feel helpless. Jon is helpless. She listens to Sherlock and she hears everything. The cracks in her voice, the raw emotion, the delicate inflections that Jon knows are meant to tell her something. She hears Sherlock confess her illegitimacy, how she's a fake, how all this was just a magic trick. "Sherlock, no."  
Then, those words she's always dreaded, in any fashion. "Goodbye, Jon."  
Her world blurs and sharpens in a dizzying pattern. She sees Sherlock toss her phone, spread her arms like some great bird of prey and then, she's falling. Jon would swear even today, three years later, that she fell with Sherlock, and it was a long, long way back up. Jon was lost, in the world and without Sherlock. Three years may sound short, but it's a really, really long time to be in pain. Sometimes she thinks that this all must be a cruel trick, that Sherlock is sitting somewhere with Irene laughing about that short blonde woman who was and still is so infatuated with Sherlock. She is thinking this when the door opens. She looks up, a greeting to Mary on her lips. Suddenly, she can see everything and nothing but Sherlock all at the same time.


	3. Chapter 3

John's heart nearly stopped when he saw Sherlock wrestling with some sort of mechanical arm in his workshop, and he clapped a hand to his mouth.  
"You've caught me doing worse," Sherlock snarked.  
That much was true. Heads in the fridge, and all that. John may have been a good doctor, but he was better at damage control. "But...The suit?"  
Sherlock rolled his eyes. " You can call it Iron Man, John. You really didn't know? What is it like in those little brains of yours, hm? You're so...ordinary."  
John absentmindedly placed his stack of files on the counter and walked forward. Dum-E brushed up against him, prompting John towards what seemed to be a joint in the suit. "Ahhh, yes. Would you mind, John? Jarvis is having a bit of trouble with that spot."  
John offered a weak smile and twisted the bolt with a wrench carefully until the armor loosened. "Thank you, Mr. Watson. It seems my arm is quite in equipped for that bolt," Jarvis said, his voice booming from the ceiling, " But Sir must put up with some human company, I try to tell him. We...inhuman objects cannot replace some things."  
"Quite right," Sherlock smiled, " I could never replace my Watson."


	4. Chapter 4

"Ma'am, your two o'clock is here. He's waiting in your office."  
She nodded. "Thank you, Lucy. Take an early lunch, why don't you?"  
With that, she swept into the office. "Hello, Mr...?"  
"Holmes, thank you."  
The name jogged something in her memory. A figure sat in the furthest corner from her chair, his features obscured by shadows. A clean suit, shined shoes. She frowned. She preferred to see the faces of her clients. "Well then, I have a couple questions for you."  
"Actually, I'll be the one asking the questions, if you don't mind."  
"If that's what you prefer."  
"You are a certified therapist, no?"  
"Indeed, Mr. Holmes."  
"You specialize in war veterans, I've heard."  
She shifted in her seat. "Right again."  
"I have questions regarding a certain patient of yours."  
"There is such a thing as patient confidentiality."  
"Which can be broken under some circumstances. All I need is an address. Even a contact number."  
"You know I can't do that."  
"Please."  
"The magic word doesn't always work when you're an adult, Mr. Holmes."  
"John Hamish Watson."  
"I didn't agree to tell you anything."  
The man leaned forward slightly. "I can see in your eyes you want to help him. You're fighting with yourself right now. John is not just an old patient, he has become a friend."  
It dawns on her. "You're Sherlock Holmes. The great detective. That's how I knew your name, you...died."  
"Did John tell you about me?"  
"Too often, in fact. It killed him, you know."  
"I know."  
"John moved in with his fiancé, Mary. Somewhere close to his old flat, but far enough that he doesn't pass it on his commute. I don't know for sure."  
"Thank you, ma'am."  
"You're right. I just want to help John."  
"Indeed. Worry not, you have."  
"You're really just going to go back and upset his equilibrium? It's not healthy."  
Sherlock stands and grabs his coat. "No, his life now is not healthy. I'm merely attempting to right a wrong or two. If you happen to get in touch with Mr. Watson, could you give him a message? I won't be able to visit him for a few days."  
She nodded. "Tell him please, that I will be with him again very soon. And many happy returns."


End file.
